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Monthly Archives: January 2008

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Just a few pics from a recent park visit. I have a love hate relationship with sand, I can tolerate park sand, but I despise beach sand. It’s just one of those things. Gets everywhere, in everything and everyone. In your car, your shoes, your nails. And I leave with the gross sandy feeling like I need to bathe very badly very soon. Hence, you guessed it. . .my children love sand. It figures doesn’t it?

A little bit more of what kind of mom I am. . .I don’t do the family bed thing, but I don’t do the cry yourself into exhaustion all by your lonesome in your crib thing either. With all 3 I have rocked them to sleep until they are in regular beds, which for my first was 2 years, 2nd was 20 months, and Greta is on her way to a full size bed this weekend. She’s 19 months by the way.

So I’ve been kind of relishing the whole rocking to sleep thing with her lately. Just knowing these are the last few nights I will probably do this makes it so final. My last baby, that’s it, nada, no more, zilch, get the point? This evening I volunteered to take the girl, one parent takes the boys, one the girl and do the whole brush teeth, story, goodnight ordeal. Usually for about the first 5 minutes she is a spazz, flailing uncomfortably, talking, singing, and so on it goes. Tonight she did her usual toss and turn, nudge, talk nonsense. Then she began to repeatedly say, “hamburber”. I ignored it for about a dozen times then I realized I need to acknowledge or she will not stop.

Me: Greta. It’s nigh-nigh time. Stop saying hamburger.

Greta: Hamburber. . .Hamburber.

Me: Yes, hamburger. Now lay your head down and go to sleep.

Fifteen seconds pass. . .

Greta: Hamburber.

Me: Greta, you don’t even like hamburgers, stop talking about them.

Again, about 15 seconds pass. . .

Greta: Doe a deer.

Me: Ok. I will sing you Doe a Deer one time. And that’s it.

My daughter thinks I have a voice like Celine Dion, and I’m not going to correct her, she’ll soon find out how wrong she is. So I go through the entire Doe a Deer song from the Sound of Music but can never get to Ti because she is anticipating the end of the song and saying again again again. I sang it about 5 times and that satisfied her.

If you’ve ever rocked a baby to sleep you recognize the heavy weight of their head lying on your shoulder, their nose nuzzling in your neck to find the sweet spot, their limbs get heavy and their movements less and less. Their breathing slows and they kind of melt into you. This is when I like to close my eyes and just rock. I’m not rocking because I like it! Of course not! I’m rocking because you have to get them into that rem cycle of sleep where you can do a successful transfer into their crib.

We hit that dead weight spot where I know she’s gone. Totally gone. I slowly rise and creep over to her crib, knowing exactly which planks of wood to avoid on the floor for fear of the creaks awakening her.

I do the swift “lift and lower” onto her blankie. She stirs, nuzzles into her blankie as I pat her back for a few seconds. I slowly glide ever so quietly to the door where I turn the knob at just the right degree to prevent the hinge from making a sound. I am about to make it, I can see the light of the TV downstairs, I reach to close the door and I hear a rustle. OH NO! I peek back in the room and don’t see anything, she probably just rolled over. As I am about to close the door I hear in a clear and distinctly devilish voice,

So what did we do with my crafty finds from my Michael’s field trip? See for yourself.

Ok, they didn’t quite come out exactly how I envisioned them. And maybe Greta eating the blue acrylic paint wasn’t so good either, but the kids had a ball and play with these little wooden creatures more than I ever would’ve imagined.

I don’t get a ton of time alone with Gunnar. He’s at school all day and then when he is home I have the little ones home as well. And because of this, I really enjoyed taking him to the doctor today. It was for a rotten cause, he has a sinus infection, but it was great to have him sit in my lap in the waiting room and just talk to him. On the way home he asked me to turn the music off, uh oh, what’s wrong. . .what happened today.

Gunnar: Mama, I’m afraid of dying.

Me(I knew it!): Sweetie, why are you afraid to die?

Gunnar: Because I’m afraid to go to the Philippines.

Me: Huh? I don’t understand. Do you know the Philippines is a country?

Gunnar: Yes. But you can’t ever leave the Philippines because of the white tips.

Me: Now I’m really lost. White tip what?

Gunnar: The White Tip Sharks. They’re everywhere in the Philippines. And if you take a boat you will die.

Me: But babe, if you’re on a boat how can a shark kill you?

Gunnar: These sharks can eat a hole through the boat and kill you. I saw a special on it in a movie.

Me: I’ll make you a deal. How about we don’t make any plans to go the Philippines?

Gunnar: Ok.

Four minutes later. . . .

Gunnar: Mama, how do you go to college?

Me: Well, you work really hard in high school and get good grades and then you apply.

Gunnar: How do you get to play on the college football team?

Me: You have to try out for it.

Gunnar: And then after college you go to the NFL?

Me: If you are really good you can.

Gunnar: Can you go back to college after the NFL?

Me: You can go back to college to get a degree, but not to play college football.

Gunnar: What happens after the NFL then?

Me: You retire. Because you’re old, injured, just not as good anymore.

Gunnar: Can you pick how many years you stay in college?

Me: I think you can only play 4 years, but you can be there 5 years, but one year you have to redshirt. . .I think.

Gunnar: Okay.

Me: Sweetie, I think it’d be a good idea to explore other careers other than being a USC college quarterback.

Yep, you read the title correctly. Yep, it’s what you think they are. That’s what we call boobs in our house. Greta is learning to count and she also just got the hang of “yours” “mine” “I” “me” “you”. The other night she was sitting on my lap while I was checking my email.

Greta: Your nurnies. My nurnies.

Me: Very good Greta.

Greta: My nurnies, one two. Your nurnies, one two three.

Sawyer (laughing hysterically): HA HA HA! She said you have three nurnies!

Me: No Greta. Two. One two.

Greta: Your nurnies. One two three.

Gunnar (giggling): Ha Ha! She thinks you have 3 nurnies! Maybe she thinks your belly button is the third one.

Me: Okay. I have two. One two. Now can my nurnies stop being the topic of this conversation!